


Mother's Day

by madlysanecatlady



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nygmobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlysanecatlady/pseuds/madlysanecatlady
Summary: Oswald has a lot of open wounds to heal, even after he and Ed come to an understanding. And missing his mother on Mother's Day isn't helping.





	Mother's Day

Mother’s Day had become difficult for Oswald. Theo Galavan had seen to it that Oswald would never look at it the same way again. He pulled the covers over his head and stifled a sniffle. He wasn’t so sure he was ready to face the day just yet. Not yet. He wasn’t strong enough.

 

He had been through hell in the past year. He’d had his heart torn to out and shredded more times than he could count – it was more than anyone should need to live through. First his mother was ripped from his life – taking her away from him and ensuring she would not be there to help him rise back up each time someone knocked him down. Then, his father had appeared, tantalisingly dangling the prospect of a new family in front of him, only to slip through his grasp as well, before he had even had the chance to fully recover from his first tragedy. And then Ed. _Oh Ed_. Ed had possibly been more painful, coming on the tail end of tragedy like a balm, only to turn around, tear out Oswald’s heart, then stomp on it all while looking him in the eye.

 

Things were better now. Well, as good as they could be, he supposed. He had returned to Gotham, broken and alone, but he had healed again and was stronger now than ever before. He and Ed had reached an understanding – or at least, Oswald was hesitant to call it more than that, lest he get what was left of his heart mangled any further. But the truth of the matter was that now they had each hurt the other so deeply, the only thing they could do was to heal each other’s wounds. There was no animosity left, and nothing else to do but address the almost magnetic pull between them. Of course, that also meant addressing the plethora of mixed emotions that came with it, but Oswald was almost willing to go wade through the sticky mess of feelings if there was some glimmer of hope on the other side.

 

Oswald heard the clattering of dishes somewhere distant in the house and pulled the covers down from over his head, listening intently. He could make out the faint sounds of someone softly singing to themselves, deep and melodic. Oswald sat up. It certainly didn’t sound like the maid. He slid out of bed and donned his robe and slippers, hobbling out of his bedroom and into the hall, following the increasing volume of the intruder’s singing.

 

He found Ed pattering around the kitchen making tea as he had always done before the whole _Isabella debacle_ as Oswald had taken to mentally calling it. Oswald had missed seeing him there in the days leading up to the incident on the pier; he had to admit it was a slightly welcome sight for the moment it took him to remember all that had happened between them. He frowned, confused – Ed had not said anything about being here today; Oswald wasn’t quite sure what to make of his presence.

 

Ed looked up from the kettle at him and smiled. ‘Good morning, Oswald. I was just finishing the tea before bringing you your breakfast, but I see you’ve decided to come to the food instead of letting it come to you.’ He gestured towards the tray of oatmeal and toast on the counter next to the empty teacup.

 

Oswald stared at him, taking in just how much Ed truly had changed in so little time. Ed now carried himself with an oozing confidence Oswald had only seen beginning to surface before. His movements were fluid and sure, all enacted by the series of dangerous muscles and tendons that made up Ed’s body. Ed had always had a dangerously quick mind, Oswald had always seen that, but now he had the body and movement to match – a complete package of vicious potential, as Oswald knew all too well.

 

‘I know I probably shouldn’t have come,’ Ed grimaced, pouring the boiled water into two teacups. ‘I’ve hurt you and I’m not sure I can ever heal all of the damage I’ve done to you… but I couldn’t bear to leave you alone today. The idea of you here alone, just missing your mother, well, it really didn’t sit nicely with me. So… I thought I might try to soothe some of your pain, even if I can’t heal the wounds _I’ve_ caused.’

 

Oswald blinked, taking a moment to process Ed’s words. Mere weeks ago, Oswald would have killed hundreds of people to have Ed caring for him like this again. He never would have thought twice about accepting the tokens of love and affection being offered, not for a second hesitating in fear of getting hurt. Ed was here in his kitchen making tea as though nothing had changed, and yet everything had. Oswald had once trusted Ed implicitly, and now he wasn’t so sure he could ever trust anyone again. And yet, even as he tried to build walls around whatever pieces of purity and love remained within him, he found them crumbling away as he looked at Ed. What good was a wall to keep someone out of your heart when they already lived so deeply inside it?

 

Finally, Oswald sucked in a deep breath and perched atop on of the kitchen stools at the counter, accepting his tea from Ed. ‘Thank you,’ he mumbled quietly, looking down at the patterns in the dark granite, wondering just what was going on in Ed’s mind to have brought him here.

 

‘Please… eat something,’ Ed pushed the tray towards him stiffly, clearly reading the rigid stance Oswald kept, perched upon the stool, looking determinedly anywhere but at him. ‘You need strength today. Emotional wounds may not be visible but still need healing.’

 

‘And what do you care about my emotional wounds?’ Oswald snapped before he could stop himself. Perhaps the ones Ed had left him were nowhere near as healed as he’d thought.

 

Ed looked pained and Oswald took temporary glee in knowing Ed was hurting at least a fraction of the amount he’d hurt him. Oswald reeled himself back in quickly, reminding himself that he may not be so innocent himself; he had certainly done his part to hurt Ed as well.

 

Oswald sighed. ‘Sorry Ed, I –‘

 

‘No,’ Ed shook his head. ‘I hurt you. You still need time.’

 

‘We hurt each other,’ Oswald corrected. ‘I… may not have handed the whole, er, Isabella thing in the best way either, so…’

 

Ed looked pained again, but less so. This time, Oswald took no satisfaction in it. He knew his jealousy had led him down a dark path, one that may have led him too far away form Ed to ever see them through to some sort of peaceful conclusion. It killed him to know that his fit of jealous rage may have completely unravelled the thick tapestry of their friendship. ‘Ed, where do we go from here?’

 

‘Well, there’s… a magnetism between us, isn’t there?’ Ed noted, looking down at his hands. ‘It’s dark, dangerous, and hasn’t led us anywhere healthy just yet, but it’s too strong to ignore. There really are only two possible outcomes: we find a way to move past it, or we destroy each other completely. And really, we’ve already tried that second option to very little success.’

 

‘And now we’ve both had time to settle, I don’t feel like another showdown to the death,’ Oswald was tired. Tired of anger. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying to hate the man he loved almost as much as he loved his parents.

 

‘So we find a way forward,’ Ed said resolutely. ‘Which is why I’m here. We’ve hurt each other. We’ve broken each other’s trust, hearts even,’ he pushed the oatmeal closer to Oswald, silently willing him to eat. ‘Now it’s time to rebuild.’

 

‘You say that like it’s going to be easy,’ Oswald huffed, finally caving and digging into the oatmeal. It was delicious – Oswald could never deny Ed had quite the talent in the kitchen. It was a bittersweet feeling, however, as he noted that the oatmeal, like the tea, tasted just as his mother had always made.

 

‘It won’t be,’ Ed sipped his tea, looking contemplative. ‘But… now I’ve seen what life without you in it is like, well, it’s by far the more attractive course to take. I… I only hope I haven’t hurt you irreparably. I don’t want to lose you.’

 

The small, petty part of Oswald thought maybe Ed should have thought about that before shooting him and leaving him to drown, heartbroken, cold, and alone. The more reasonable part of him, albeit a part of him that seemed to be shrinking the longer he stayed in this city, knew that he had badly hurt Ed too. Oswald had taken time to learn how to love someone properly, perhaps too much time – he prayed he hadn’t learned too late. But then, he supposed, Ed wouldn’t be he trying if he had.

 

‘Thank you, Ed,’ Oswald said finally, after having finished his oatmeal in silence. ‘For trying… for coming here so I’m not alone today. You’re right. It’s not easy today… I just don’t know what to do with myself.’

 

‘I had an idea about that,’ Ed murmured, clearing away the dishes and fetching a package from the counter. As he came back to Oswald’s side, he could see it was an enormous bouquet of white and pink lilies. ‘I thought you might like to pay your mother a visit. I saved you the trip for a present.’

 

Oswald was completely lost for words, and even found himself choking back the flood of emotion threatening to flood out. Ed still cared. Even after all they had done for each other, after all of Oswald’s doubts, _he still_ _cared_. Oswald could hardly believe it, and yet here they were. Things wouldn’t be easy. They wouldn’t be perfect. They would probably never be the same as the once had been. But, Oswald knew there was hope for a future. After all, Ed had said it himself – they were drawn to each other whether they liked it or not – they either had to succumb or destroy each other.

 

Ed handed Oswald the flowers, who smiled. His mother would have liked Ed, he thought. Well, she would have until he broke her little baby’s heart. Of course, Gertrud Cobblepot was a very forgiving woman, unlike her son. Oswald thought he might try to make her proud of him on Mother’s Day and try to forgive Ed as it seemed he had forgiven him. He had many wounds to heal, and no support from his mother to do so, but Oswald felt as though he could get through it. And as he looked down at the flowers Ed had so carefully selected for him to leave at his mother’s grave, he knew things would begin to get better.              

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in a weird mood today. I need something sorta hopeful, I guess.


End file.
